By Dana Marie Bell
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Extra resources for Blood of the Maple
Sample text
Her commune with her tree had gone a long way toward easing her concerns. Now she needed to find out how things had gone in her absence. It had been roughly two weeks since she舗d entered her tree, but it was hard to pin down an exact time. Time moved differently for the forest than for humans. It was slower, measured in seasons rather than hours, and it was easy to lose track of the days. If her tree hadn舗t given her a gentle reminder she was needed in the human world, she would have happily stayed there till the first snows fell.
Parker deposited the bags on the table. 舡 Greg sighed. 舡 Parker blinked. Was he beginning to like his curse? He supposed it was possible. One of the things he舗d come to appreciate about his changed diet was the variety. O-negative might be different from O-positive, but in the long run, it all tasted like blood. Now he got to try all sorts of flavor and texture combinations he舗d have been forced to vomit back up in the old days. Greg snipped a piece of the spider plant and put it in the blender.
The smell coming from it was truly vile. He winced. 舡 Nosferatu made him think of that spindly, ugly-ass guy in the black-and-white film. He might not be Tony Curtis, but he sure as hell wasn舗t that guy either. There was that smile that had led him to her bed, the one that promised all sorts of forbidden delights. 舠Of course. 舡 He gave his attention once more to the iron bars of his cage. He twisted and pulled, bending them, but not nearly enough. Damn it. He舗d been working on freeing himself for an hour or more.